The Case of the Flying Bandit
by Comidia Del Arte
Summary: With only a single shred of evidence to go on, Basil of Baker Street sets off to find the elusive "Flying Bandit." Little does he know that with his discovery, he'll be pulled into the complicated life of a mouse desperate to protect her family. Basil/OC
1. Bloody Fur

It was the first piece of evidence in this case, for 2 months Basil had been just as clueless as Mouseland Yard. But at long last he had something. And he held it in his hand. The ever elusive Flying Bandit had left a clue; Basil rolled his eyes at the thought of the name. The people in the newspaper were starting to lose their touch with naming jewel thieves. The nickname was hardly imaginative, but he had to admit it fit the description witnesses had given of the thief very well.

The Thief always made dramatic escapes, no matter how impossible they seemed, somehow he managed them. He was like the Houdini of scumbags. Not a single shred of evidence was left behind, until now that is. Scrunching his nose in frustration, the Great Mouse Detective turned the clue over in his hands. What he held was clump of black bloody fur. According to the museum guard, a stray bullet from his gun had grazed the Bandit's arm. Despite the injury, the Bandit carried on by taking out the guard and tying him up, and removing all traces of blood from the scene, and just as before, disappeared with yet another gem. However, he had left something behind on the curtains.

Mouseland Yard took no notice of the evidence that Basil held, those morons had not one lick of perception. How they kept their jobs in law enforcement was beyond him. Stowing the bloodied fur into the pocket of his coat, Basil left the crime scene intent on studying it closely within the sanctity of his lab.

The crime had not happened to far away from Baker Street, so Basil decided not to call Toby or to jump on a cab. It wasn't that long of a walk, and besides he could keep an eye out for any clues as to where the perp. had disappeared to, The Bandit may be some sort of Houdini, but like any magician the magic was always the slight of the hand, a trick on the eyes.

A heavy mist fell upon London in the later afternoon. Accompanying it was a thick woolen blanket of darkness. It was as if the lights of all that could be assumed holy had been doused. Shadows of wickedness slowly began to overtake the city. And coming with the shades, along the dark sidewalks a small cloaked figure hurried through the darkness as it darted up, around and through the feet of late night human dwellers. The small creature jumped onto the sole of a man's shoe. Gripping tight to the laces, it held on as the human made his way down the street. For the most part, this was an easy way to travel quickly through the streets of London, granted not the safest. A small mammal always ran the risk of being seen or crushed underfoot. But it was the most practical for those who could not afford to grab a cab.

Seeing the desired stop, the figure dismounted from the shoe and rolled, softening the impact of the jump. Leaping to stand, the figure ran out of the way of the humans. Making it to the corner of a large dark alley, it removed the hood of its coat. The coal black face of a young female mus musculus; more commonly known as a house mouse, was revealed.

Her eyes were wide with caution; they also seemed to be laced with pain. As if on cue, she flinched and clutched at her left arm. Slowly, she relinquished her grip and eyed her palm. It shone with a light coating of blood. It wasn't that bad of wound, she had been lucky the bullet merely grazed her. At least she had gotten what she wanted from that little escapade; the thought caused the mouse to smile with satisfaction. Digging her clean hand into the pocket of her coat, her fingers entrapped a fist sized ruby.

Reassured that the gem was there, the mouse pulled away from the wall of the alley; straightened her jacket and made her way down the lane. Her sights set on an entrance, where a hanging board read "Burby's Trinkets."

The sign on the door labeled the shop as close, but the young mouse paid the sign no mind. A single smart rap on the door awakened the owner, who was not to happy with the late night disturbance. The door was opened a crack. A gruff voice, heavy with a British accent spoke from inside "Sign say's we're closed."

Smirking, the mouse leaned down to where she knew Burby stood. Her voice was laced with a hint of a British accent as well as an undertone of German. "I'm sure you can make an exception for me Mr. Burby."

There was short pause, and then the door was thrown open. The mouse smirked and looked down at the bespectacled mole, who hardly seemed pleased at seeing his late night visitor. "Amsel, what the blazes are you doing here?"

Rolling her eyes, the mouse invited herself inside. Throwing herself onto an old couch, which was high priced despite the obvious wear and tear. "I have a ruby for you to cut and sell. And as always I expect payment for my troubles, a 55% cut from the profits you make."

The mole shuffled slipper adorned feet, this mouse always made him nervous. She wasn't dangerous, and he knew she would never truly hurt him, or his family. But it was never wise to trust a criminal. More so when said criminal was making headlines. He stared at the Amsel. "B-b-but that's 5% more then what you normally ask for."

Amsel sat up, her hand digging through the pockets of her coat. "I need more money Algie, as for why, well, that is simply none of your affair."

Finding what she wanted, Amsel tossed the ruby to Burby. The mole caught it, and pulled out his jeweler's loupe. His eyes widened behind his spectacles. Diverting his attention to the young thief he questioned. "Where did you…umm…?"

The mole could not finish his sentence; it was as if saying 'steal' would damn him straight to hell. Shaking her head, Amsel stood. Placing her hand on the mole's shoulder she answered the unfinished question. "I acquired it through illegal means, as for where I got it, well, you'll find at in tomorrow's headlines."

Algie stared into the mouse's large gray eyes. They seemed to be laughing on the outside, but at moments like these, the mole swore that he say a twinge of desperation in them. Amsel relinquished her hold on the elderly mole. Making her way toward the door, she called over her shoulder. "I'll be back in a few days to check you're progress on the ruby. And I'll collect my share in a month's time."

As if sensing the mole's worry, Amsel looked back at him, her long tail twitched back and forth. "Fear not Mr. Burby, it'll all be over soon, and you and I can go back to our normal lives, until then; cheerio."

That said Amsel disappeared into the night, leaving Algie Burby to stare at the ruby in his hands. She always spoke like that, talking about everything being over soon. The mouse never explained why she stole, and every time she talked of such things, she never directed the reassuring words to the mole. It was as if the words were meant for her and not him.

Rubbing a thumb over the glistening red gem, Burby locked the door to his shop, and took his candle upstairs, eager to go back to bed with his wife. After depositing the stolen ruby in his safe box, the mole retired from his shop, and made the trek upstairs; all the while, Cecilia Amsel's words of comfort echoing in his head. "It'll all be over soon."


	2. Suspect

"Dawson, have a look at this!" The microscope was pushed in the direction a portly mouse with a bristled mustache. Said mouse looked into the scope, eyeing the shred of bloodied fur. He hadn't a clue what the detective expected him to see, however he humored his friend and studied the fur. "Err, Basil, what am I looking at?"

Chuckling, the Detective explained. "Look closely Doctor, very closely. It's well hidden by our thieving friend."

Taking Basil's advice, Dawson squinted. To his utter astonishment he found what his dear friend was referring to. He pulled away and starred at the detective. "Strands of white fur?"

Nodding excitedly, Basil grabbed for the scope and looked into it. "Exactly, upon closer inspection, I found traces of black shoe polish carefully applied to the fur. The Bandit is bi colored, a very rare complexion among mice, so that narrows the field tremendously. "

The Doctor could only watch as Basil continued to study the evidence. The tall gangly mouse never ceased to surprise him "Amazing!"

Pleased with his own brilliance, Basil replied. "It's elementary my dear Dawson."

Turning away, Basil grabbed for a pair of tweezers. Very carefully he took the fur out from the microscope. With extreme delicacy, he plucked a clump of shoe polish from the fur. "Upon closer inspection, I believe we will discover where out sticky fingered friend shops."

So while Basil studied the black waxy substance. Dawson eyed a map on the wall. The Flying Bandit had been at large for a couple months. He came in out of nowhere one night, and managed to stir every well to do mouse into a state of panic. The good Doctor did not have the powers of perception that his friend seemed so gifted with. But he knew Basil, and right now the detective had hit a point where he wouldn't rest until he came face to face with his newest adversary.

Any fool who looked at the state of Basil's living quarters could easily deduce that the mouse had grown a tad obsessive. The map of London which hung on the wall was littered with darts, marking every home, shop, and museum that the Bandit had hit. "Aha!"

Dawson jumped in surprise at Basil's excited voice "Beeswax!"

Eyebrow quirked in confusion, Dawson joined Basil at the center point of his lab "Pardon?"

An almost insane smile adorned Basil's face. "The base used to create this polish is beeswax; it's the cheapest of bases, and is more commonly sold by vendors in Whitechapel."

Basil shot up from his chair and ran back to where the fur sat. "We are getting closer to closing this case Dawson; I can feel it in my bones!"

Snatching the fur, Basil eyed it carefully. Holding it to his nose, the detective gave it a sniff. Naturally he smelled the tinge of dried blood, and the chemical odor of the shoe polish. But there was something else, something familiar. This time he took a deep breath, thinking past the obvious scents, it was there. Peculiar, it was natural scent, almost earthy, but it smelled almost female. His eyes widened, without a word to Dawson, he ran to the kitchen.

Just as the door swung shut, there was a loud crash, and the scolding of Mrs. Judson could be heard. "Mr. Basil, what in the name of God, are you doing? I just cleaned the kitchen! Wha….? Where are you going with my tea?"

The kitchen door swung open, and Basil ran to his lab. In his hands, he held what looked like a tin of tea leaves. Opening the tin, Basil held it up to Dawson "Smell!"

Completely at a loss of what to do or how to react, Dawson did as he was told. What he smelled was the scent of roses. How odd? He wasn't aware of such an odd flavor of tea. Peering into the jar, he found a pile of dried rose petals.

Before he could inspect it further, Basil pulled away the tin and shoved the fur in his face while relaying the same command "Smell!"

Jerking away, Dawson stared at his friend, suddenly worrying for his sanity. "Basil, I don't want to smell dirty fur!"

Rolling his eyes, Basil shoved the fur into the Doctor's face. "Just smell the bloody fur!"

Finding no other alternative, Dawson gave the evidence a whiff. His eyes widened, he could smell the hint of roses, much like the tea. Looking at the detective, the portly mouse nodded his understanding.

Smiling in triumph, Basil stared at the tea tin. The label read, "Amsel's Teas and Remedies."

Putting down the tin, Basil called for his house keeper. "Mrs. Judson!"

Moments later a rather harried maid came into the room. "Mr. Basil! I understand that this is your home, but I work hard to keep it clean!"

Dismissing the words with a simple wave of his hand, Basil questioned. "What can you tell me about the proprietor of 'Amsel's Teas and Remedies'?"

Mrs. Judson's eyes jumped between Basil and the mess on his lab table. "If you're assuming that Mr. Amsel is the Flying Bandit sir, then you're sorely mistaken. The mouse is hopelessly blind and he only speaks German."

At this information, Basil's ears flattened. But he perused with his questions. "Is he bi-colored?"

Mrs. Judson shook her head slowly. Basil turned away and threw his arms up in the air, defeated. "Drat, another dead end!"

"But…" Mrs. Judson piped up. "He has two children and one of them black with a splash of white on the right side of her body."

Turning, Basil grabbed Mrs. Judson by the shoulders, a look of desperation. "How old is he?"

Brushing his hands away, the house keeper replied. "She… is only ten years old."

Basil bit his lower lip in frustration. "What about the other child?" A look of worry could be seen in Mrs. Judson's eyes. "I do not know about Cecilia, I assume her probably nineteen, perhaps twenty. But I don't recall her having the color pattern of her sister."

Releasing his house keeper, Basil ran over to the old grandfather clock. Opening the door, he grabbed his jacket, and threw his robe inside. "Come along Dawson, I think it's time we pay the Amesels a visit."

Dawson was completely dumb founded. "But, but Basil how could any of them be the Bandit, one is blind, the other is simply too young and the last is…"

The detective chuckled as he put his hat on "A woman? Come now Dawson, how many times have I said that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, _however improbable_, must be the truth?"

The Doctor sighed. "Many time Basil, many times." Smiling, Basil placed an arm around Dawson's shoulder. "Exactly, just because Ms. Amsel is a woman does not mean she isn't capable of being a criminal."

Closing the door to 221 ½ Baker Street, Basil and Dawson ventured out into the cold brisk London morning. Turning the collar of his jacket up, Basil glanced around from under the safety of the garden bushes. Placing his fingers to his lips, he emitted a high pitched whistle. That done, the two mice looked out onto the street, "Lovely morning, wouldn't you say Basil?"

The detective shrugged. "A tad chilly for my tastes, but it is London after all."

Hearing the door of 221B Baker Street open, the mice stepped out from the shrubbery. The two were greeted by a large blood hound. Smiling, Basil greeted the dog with the same enthusiasm is it had greeted them. "Ah Toby, there you are."

Toby barked happily, and gave his small master a lick, knocking the poor mouse over in the process "Ugh Toby, honestly!"

Despite the annoyance in his voice, Basil was smiling. He loved his large companion almost like a son. With Dawson's help, the detective managed to get up. Running up to the dog, Basil grabbed Toby's collar, using it to hoist himself up. Looking down from the back of the canine, Basil laughed heartily. "Come along Dawson, let's not waste time!"

_

"Ah, here it is Doctor, the address of one Mr. Amsel and his daughters." Looking over his shoulder of the disheveled Dawson, Basil leapt off of Toby's back. "Good boy Toby, well done."

Hearing a rather loud 'oomph' Basil looked over to where Dawson laid slapped out on the ground. Going over to help his friend up, the detective gave his orders to his canine stead "Now Toby sit! And stay if you please. We will be back in a moment."

The dog did not give Basil any sign that he had heard, but the mouse trusted Toby fully. After all he was the best hound that Basil had ever had the pleasure of training. Smiling at the thought, Basil and Dawson walked into a small front garden, located just outside what looked to be a human restaurant. Hanging on the garden fence was a board, which read "Amsel's Teas and Remedies."

The two walked through the hole in the fence and came upon a path made up of pebbles and followed it. They found themselves in a canopy of rose bushes as well as other garden variety flowers. The weak fall weather sun managed to penetrate the bushes, throwing the entire entrance into a warm glow.

Dawson looked through a large canopy window, which rested right next to the door. The sign on the door claimed the place to be in business, so Basil opened the door and went inside. A wall of varied scents nearly knocked the detective off his feet. The place smelled heavily of tea leaves and incense. The doctor followed closely behind. Glancing around Basil saw a desk at the back of the room, where a cash register sat. And behind the register was small mouse, whose hands were covered with ink from what Basil assumed, came from the cheap pen in her hand.

The door closed behind Dawson, the girl jumped in surprise and upset the bottle of ink that rested next to her. For several seconds the child was flustered. Someone called to her from the other room, in the dialect of German, if Basil wasn't mistaken. He himself spoke very little of that particular language, but he caught a few words, here and there. After a few seconds of verbal exchange, the girl looked up at Basil. "My sister will be with you in a moment sirs."

Basil nodded, all the while studying the child. Mrs. Judson had given a correct description of the girl, a black face with a splash of white. She looked her age, and had a nervous air about her, but despite that, the child's large gray eyes were alight with an innocent curiosity.

A smile broke across the girl's face, she jumped off her chair and ran out from behind the desk. "You're him! You're that famous detective!"

Basil was slightly taken back by the child's excitement. Dawson however found humor in the matter. "It would seem Basil, that you have a fan."

The girl nodded enthusiastically. "Uh huh! Sissy reads me all the stories about you from the papers. She says you're one of the most brilliant minds! …. My name's Rebekka!"

Rebekka beamed up at the detective, her eyes shining with glee. The child motioned for Basil to lean down, so that she could whisper in his ear. "She also says you're really handsome and easier to look at than Ratigan."

Eyes wide, Basil stared at girl. Glancing over at Dawson, the two shared a look of fear. Walking to the young mouse, Dawson spoke gently. "My dear, Ratigan is dead."

Rebekka pulled away, shaking her head. Before she could form a retort, she was interrupted by a loud "Rebekka!"

The girl snapped to attention. Looking toward the door, Basil took in the coal black fur, braided hair, pink nose, and the solid gray eyes. The woman was staring fixedly at her sister. Her voice was laced with a graceful German accent. It was not harsh, but stern and mothering. "Bekka, you're supposed to be doing something."

Rebekka looked down and nodded. Raising an eyebrow, the oldest Amsel continued. "Are you doing it?"

Her answer was a simple shake of the head. In seconds Rebekka was ushered out of the room with her school books. "Continue you're studies in the back with Papa. After I finish up here, I'll make lunch."

Watching her sister go, the lady mouse turned to look at Basil. "Good morning gentlemen, please excuse my sister, she is still learning her manners."

As she spoke, she moved past Basil. He could smell the scent of roses on her fur, it was so potent. "How may I help you two gentlemen today, perhaps a strong breakfast tea?" At this she gave a Basil a careful once over "or perhaps one of our floral teas for the missus?" She directed this question at the doctor.

The two men stared at her. At this she chuckled. "Excuse me, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Cecilia Amsel."

Dawson smiled pleasantly. "Charmed madam, my name is David Q. Dawson."

Basil extended his hand to shake Cecilia's. She took it firmly in her grasp, smiling up at him. "I know who you are, Basil of Baker Street, a great honor to meet you. Rebekka is quite taken with you and the stories of your cases."

The detective grinned as Cecilia relinquished her grip on his hand "Really?"

He could see the embarrassment in her slate gray eyes, granted Ms. Amsel was an impeccable actress, but she couldn't hide everything. "Oh yes, she requests that I read the articles to her before bed every night. In fact, she aspires to be a detective."

Something was eating at her from the inside. That much could be seen through the nervous twitch in her ears. "So gentlemen, how may I help you today?"

Basil looked around the shop, taking in everything, searching for the smallest clue the room could offer. Taking notice of wall littered with photographs, he made his way towards them. There were seven in all. One was what looked like a family portrait, which was made up of four mice; the second was a lovely white mouse dressed in a skin tight leotard, holding the reins of several large birds.

Cecilia walked over, looking proudly at the pictures. "Is this your mother?"

At this, she nodded. Basil studied the picture. "A bird tamer in a Russian circus I take it?"

The young lady starred at him in shock. "How did you know?" This caused Basil to smirk. "Well its elementary my dear, the banner behind that large raven is written in Russian, and it reads 'The Greatest Circus in All of Russia.'"

Cecilia raised her eyebrows, and looked back at the picture. "I suppose it is elementary."

Looking down at her, Basil took in her entire form. Just by looking at her, he already knew a lot about Cecilia. For example, before she came into the room, she had been making tea bags. This was illustrated by the bits of flower petal under her fingernails. Basil managed to catch sight of a few bits of bird dander on her clothing, mostly around her legs, as if she had been riding the creature. He also took notice of how she had favored her left arm when she had picked up Rebekka's books. This, according to the museum guard, had been the arm he had grazed with the bullet.

Taking notice of Basil's staring, Cecilia glanced up at him. "Ms. Amsel, I noticed that you have been favoring your left arm, perhaps Dawson here, would be willing to have look at it. He just so happens to be a Doctor."

Cecilia grew tense at the offer. She seemed slightly alarmed, but her calm demeanor returned. "There is no need for that Mr. Detective. I just tripped on the stairs last night while carrying a jar of tea leaves."

Dawson walked over to her. "It's no trouble Ms. Amsel."

Eyes wide, Cecilia pulled away. "No, it's nothing Mr. Basil, nothing that few days rest can't handle."

Basil smirked down at her. "I think you're afraid of something Ms. Amsel."

Cecilia's face went blank. "What is there to be afraid of?" Basil raised a knowing eyebrow; he had her "Perhaps, us finding out about your nightly activities?"

Her mouth fixed itself into a sneer "My nightly activities?" Cecilia scoffed. "Are you saying that I'm the Flying Bandit! That's a good one Mr. Detective, I always figured you to be without a sense of humor, but I've been wrong before."

That said, she turned her back and began to walk toward the desk. Angered by the insult, Basil was hot on her heels. He spoke as calmly as possible. "Allow my friend to have a look at your arm, prove me wrong."

He made an attempt to grab at her, feeling a blow to the head Basil reeled back, completely stunned. Cecilia held a finger in his face, despite her lack in height; her glare was enough to reduce Basil to a whimpering child. "I do not appreciate it when a man touches me without my permission."

Basil held his ground, refusing to back down. "Show me your arm, and I'll let you be."

An awkward silence fell between the pair. Dawson looked on, unsure of what to do. The two mice glared at each other for a long time, one as stubborn as the other. "Cecilia?"

At the sound of her name, the lady turned. "Oh Papa!"

Hunching at the doorway was a very tall black furred mouse. His eyes were clouded with blindness. Despite his height, he looked rather sickly and gaunt. Cecilia made her way over to the man, taking him in her arms. Doing her best to calm him and take him out of the room. Dawson grasped Basil's shoulder firmly. "Come on Basil, we can always come back later."

Nodding, Basil tore his eyes away from Cecilia's gaze; the two friends took their leave. Watching the door close behind them, Cecilia let out a sigh of relief while leading her father into the back room. Depositing him on his old rocking chair, she took a step back and bit her lip. Gritting her teeth she hissed. "Why did I have to save that sewer rat?"

Grasping her tail, she twisted it nervously, turning away from her father. Cecilia went to stand before a hot stove, beads of sweat dripped from her brow. Wiping away the perspiration, she pushed up the sleeves of her dress. Her entire left arm was wrapped up in cloth bandages. From the binding up, her arm was adorned with snow white fur."Forgive me Papa, I did not mean to bring such hardship on our family."


	3. The Rat Trap

The day wore on without much incident in the Amsel household, the Detective made no further visits much to the relief of Cecilia. She couldn't afford any more mistakes. Stealing the ruby without orders had been a bad idea. But desperation made a mouse do stupid things, she had to protect her sister, whatever the cost.

Cecilia mulled over her plans through the entirety of dinner, remaining quite. All the while Rebekka chattered on to Papa about meeting the famed Detective. At the mentioning of Basil's name, Cecilia rubbed a gentle hand over her injured arm. She didn't like the thought of his snooping around, though of course she silently commended him for spot on detective work.

The Amsel family had always been for dumb luck. For years they dodged many things that could have killed either one of them. Rebekka's birth had been a complicated one. She had almost come out feet first. But somehow the midwife had managed to turn her around and both Mama and Rebekka had survived. In his youth, Papa had fallen off a train and only suffered a couple broken bones.

Sadly, it seemed such fortune had a price. Mama was struck with fever and passed two years ago. And not long after, Papa began to feel his age and was growing weaker by the day. A year after Mama's death, Papa had gone completely blind.

These sad circumstances left Cecilia in charge of the family. Which in turn made things even more difficult, women were not seen as heads of the family, and at times were given very little respect. It made it hard to keep the shop afloat.

Clearing the table, Cecilia glanced at her sister who had taken a spot by the fire, quietly reading to Papa from the newspaper. The old mouse listened happily, taking in the day's news. After washing the dishes, Cecilia made a pot of tea, and soon joined her sister on the floor. And so the family sat, warm and content, enjoy their cups of hot tea.

The old mantle clock ticked away the minutes the family spent before the fire, the solemn toll of Big Ben struck the hour. At nine o'clock on the dot, Cecilia was tucking Rebekka in bed. The young girl looked up into her sister's eyes "Cici?"

Tucking the blankets under her body, Cecilia paused and gave the child her full attention. "Yes?"

Rebekka sat up fully, pulling the covers out from under her. Her innocent eyes seemed to be filling to fearful tears. "Are you sending me away?"

Cecilia froze; she was at a complete loss for words. Taking her sister into her arms, she hugged her. "Why do you ask such a thing?"

The girl's body shuddered with sobs. "I-I saw the letters from Aunt Aliza, w-why are you sending me away?"

Pulling from the embrace Cecilia cupped her sister's chin. "To keep you safe."

She didn't understand she was too young to understand. Biting her lip, Cecilia pulled her in for yet another hug. "Do you remember the night I brought that stranger into the house?"

Bekka nodded slowly. "He was really hurt and we nursed him back to health, do you remember that?"

Another nod and she finished the story. "And then he tried to hurt you because you said a certain word…"

A shudder went through the child's body, Cecilia held her tightly, tears coursing through her black fur. "I'm never going to let that happen to you ever again… That's why I'm sending to Aunt Aliza, to Germany, where you'll be safe… Do you understand?"

Rebekka shook her head slowly, sighing Cecilia put her at arm's length, brushing away her sister's tears. "You will someday."

Standing up, Cecilia took the oil lamp the night stand. "Good night Bekka."

"Are you going out tonight?" Cecilia glanced around at her. "I'll be back in a couple of hours." Rebekka lay back into her pillow; it was long until the girl succumbed to sleep.

Cecilia descended the stairs as quietly as possible. Going into the Shop, she set the lamp down on the counter. For a moment, she stood, her breathing becoming labored in an attempt to stifle her sobs. Her sister must hate, so much. Sending her away was an act of betrayal. But it was the only way to keep out of that sewer rat's clutches. Ratigan had hurt her once, and she swore that she would never again allow that to happen.

Regaining her composure, Cecilia opened one of the counter drawers. Inside sat a revolver, the only gun that this family owned. If Papa had known about it, he would be ashamed, he never liked guns, though her never explained why. There were many sins that Cecilia had committed that would easily tear out her father's heart, if he ever found out.

Placing the revolver on the countertop, Cecilia pulled out a pile of men's clothing which was composed of a black shirt, a pair of work pants, black suspenders, and a patched up cap. Shedding her work uniform, Cecilia darned the worn out clothes. Rolling up the sleeves of her shirt, she removed the now soiled bandage.

From the elbow up, her arm was adorned in white fur, now of course it was stained a rusty red color. Cecilia had done a decent job on stitching her arm up, it wasn't perfect but it was good enough to allow the damage to heal without putting her at a disadvantage. After wrapping a strip of black clothe around the healing wound, Cecilia forced her braided hair into a bun, sticking in pins to hold it in place.

Grabbing the cap, Cecilia shoved it onto her head. Turning to the lamp, she lowered the wick, throwing the entire shop into complete darkness. Taking the revolver from the counter, Cecilia made for the door, snatching her father's old black trench coat from the coat rack as she went.

Closing and locking the door behind her, Cecilia made for the closest rose bush. Gripping the thorns, she hoisted herself up and began to climb. At long last, she reached the top of the bushes, and looked around. Somehow London had managed to achieve colder temperatures.

Shivering slightly, Cecilia cupped her hands around her mouth and released an almost bone chilling call, which sounded almost like the cawing of a Raven. Rubbing her arms for warmth, she waited. Minutes later the calm silence was interrupted by the buffeting of wings. Looking up into a pair of beady black eyes, Cecilia smile, extending her hand, allowing the large black to rest his beak in her palm "Raaf, my sweet."

The bird made a sound of pleasure as the mouse dug her finger through the black plumage to rub his head. "What a good boy you are. Are you ready to fly for me tonight?"

Raaf looked down at her, and then turned his back. Granting Cecilia permission to mount him, using his tail as a means of boarding, she took her place just above the wings. Gripping at Raaf's feather, Cecilia ordered him forward. "Fly!"

Without a moment's hesitation, Raaf spread his wings and took to the skies. All the while, Cecilia laughed and hooted on his back. She loved to fly; it was one of the many things that Mama had passed down to her.

Giggling, the mouse buried her face in the feathered plumage of her companion. She had raised Raaf from a hatchling; his egg had been a gift from her mother many years ago. When raven hatched, he followed Cecilia around like a lost puppy, completely and hopelessly imprinted on her. With Mama's help, the young mouse learned to train and fly him. And in time she came off as a natural.

Smiling dreamily at the thought of happier times, Cecilia looked down over London; they were getting closer to the water front. Applying a bit pressure to Raaf's side with her right foot, she guided the bird down. Down and down they went, as they neared the docks, Raaf began to slow his decent.

In a flurry of feathers, the raven landed gracefully on the dock just above the notorious "Rat Trap." Extending his wing, Raaf watched as his rider slid off onto the ground. Lowering his head he nudged his mistress's shoulder, taking the hint, Cecilia extended her hand. The bird rested his head in her palm. Smiling, she gave him a kiss on the beak "My sweet angel."

She cooed, giving her avian companion a last hug, and then she shooed him away. "Go on, away with you!"

With a flutter of black wings, Raaf disappeared into the night sky, leaving Cecilia alone on the waterfront. Shivering, she shoved her hands into the deep recesses of her coat pockets. Walking toward the edge of the pier, the mouse looked around for the steps which lead to the pub.

Taking the stairs, she made her way to the 'Rat Trap.' Opening the door, Cecilia was met with the musty smell of mold, tobacco smoke, and unwashed mice. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she slumped over to the bar and grabbed a stool. Taking a seat she looked around the bar, in an attempt to spot the Mary Ann the bar maid.

Said mouse spotted Cecilia almost instantly, and came over to greet her. "Lia ma dear, it's been a while darling, what can I get yah?"

"Just get me a pint of Rodent's Delight, thanks." Mary Ann left the thief to her own devices as she went to retrieve her drink. Looking around, Cecilia watched the entertainment at the main part of the 'Trap.' On stage was Ms. Kitty, a pretty white mouse with baby blue eyes. Her body hypnotized the men, leaving them drooling and calling out for more.

Smirking at the easily bent mind of the male population, Cecilia turned her attention back to the bar, finding her drink sitting in front of her. Grabbing the mug, she took a heavy swig of the cheap alcohol. It rushed down her throat, leaving behind a burning sensation. "I thought you hated booze?"

The question was directed by a nasally Australian accent. Rolling her eyes, Cecilia didn't bother to look up. "Go hop with the wallabies you flat footed rat."

The stool next to her squeaked with the weight of its new occupant, "You wound me Cici. I thought we was friends, after all the times I watched out for ya. I figured you'd be nicer."

Taking another swig of Delight, Cecilia looked up, meeting a smirking pair of hazy brown eyes; before her sat one of few of Ratigan's right hand rodents. His name was Hugo King, a kangaroo rat "Another pint Mary!"

A mug was slammed down onto the bar. Smiling, Hugo snatched it and downed half its contents. "Boss isn't happy with you Cici."

Glaring at him, she snapped. "I figured as much."

"Are you asking to get your head torn off?" Hugo seemed to be fighting to urge to shake some sense into her.

Cecilia took another drink. "You're over exaggerating."

"The Hell I am, I'm surprised he didn't call the cat on you!" This caused the thief shudder, to be eaten alive, that wasn't the way to go.

"He wouldn't dare a life for a life! I saved his, and the least he can do is let me keep mine." Her voice held an edge of fear, what she said was a form of reassurance for herself. Ratigan was twisted in every way. He didn't know the meaning of the phrase 'life debt.'

The two mice stared at each other for a long moment. "Why'd you do it Cici?"

Looking to the stage, Cecilia thought for a moment. "You know exactly why, I need to get her out of here."

The Australian raised an eyebrow. "Do ya really think she'll be safe?"

Turning back to the bar, she gritted her teeth, he watched her. "You can trust me Shelia, I swear on me mother's grave."

"It's the best I can do. He almost killed her once, and I'm not letting it happen again."

Hugo gave Cecilia a sympathetic smile. "You've been pushin his buttons, that's the third theft you did without orders. He isn't too happy."

Taking one last gulp of Delight, Cecilia got up. "I can handle him."

Joining her, Hugo led her around the bar. "Come on then, he wants to see you."

Nodding, Cecilia followed the Kangaroo rat around the bar. She never understood why Ratigan insisted on using the old trap door, it was her understanding that his nemesis knew exactly where it was. She supposed it was just his sense of over confidence and pride, almost as if he were daring Basil to make a trip down into the depths.

Descending through the door, the two made their way to the water pipe. Hugo grabbed a lantern from close buy and lit it. He went into the pipe first, and Cecilia followed closely behind. The trek was a long one, and the water was absolutely freezing. It felt as if liquid ice again her fur.

Unbeknownst to the two criminals, someone had been watching them as they sat at the bar. A pair of emerald green eyes stared out from under the brim of blue bonnet. He had heard everything, saw everything.

Basil had been watching the Amsel household for a few hours that very evening. It seemed like a good time for observation, all of the Bandit's heists happened at night. And low and behold, Ms. Amsel had led him on a merry 'goose chase'… So to speak.

For those who wonder why Basil was wearing a bonnet, well that can be explained through his experimenting on new disguises. He had paraded as wide range of male mice, but he had never dared to darn the costume of that of a female mouse. Tonight he thought it best to try it. One thing's for sure, riding Toby in a dress, well it explained why you don't see fine ladies riding dogs instead of taking a cab.

Basil took a sip of wine from his glass, he held back shudder of disgust; it tasted awful. So Ratigan had survived the fall, it would be a lie to say that the great detective wasn't surprised to hear this news. But he was curious as to how the young Amsel had been the one to save the Napoleon of Crime. Of all the mice in Mousedom, a young German mouse had been Ratigan's savior, and from what he heard in the recent conversation, Ratigan was hardly showing any signs of appreciation. How like him that was.

Getting up from his seat, Basil made his way to the biggest mouse in the pub. He needed a distraction, and this was the way to do it. Grabbing a mug of beer, he threw it in the direction of the burly mouse. It broke across his head, and before the thug could look to see who dared to hit him, Basil was out of sight.

Within five minutes, a fight broke out, giving the detective enough time to go through the trap door. Going into the pipe, Basil navigated his way through the water way. For moment, he recalled the night where he went through this same pipe. Of course, tonight he was alone. Dawson was like a brother to Basil, and he loved him as such. But the Doctor was not one for disguises. So he stayed home this evening.

Reaching the end of the pipe, Basil lifted up the grate of the storm drain. Just as before, there sat Ratigan's lair. A large barrel with the letter 'R' painted at the front. So much for subtlety, the detective thought.

Skirting around the alley, Basil looked around for any signs of the rat himself, so far nothing. Suddenly a voice echoed through the shadows, a voice that sounded all too familiar. "My sweet Cecilia, you hurt me so with your disrespect of my authority."

Ratigan! Basil edged closer. "You make it sound like you own me Ratigan."

That was Ms. Amsel. "Oh but my lovely, I do own you. I've given you so much in life; you could at least appreciate what I've done for you."

There was a long pause. "Am I supposed to appreciate the fact that you threaten the well fare of my family?"

Another pause, and then a loud 'SMACK' resounded off the walls. "Don't you, dare talk to me that way!"

Looking around the corner of the building, Basil caught sight of the conversing pair. There stood Ratigan, tall and proud, and before him was Cecilia, who looked to be cradling her cheek. She took a breath and glared up at him. "Sorry Boss."

Ratigan smiled. "Good girl, now what happened to the ruby you stole?"

"I lost it." The rat's calm and collected demeanor slowly began to melt away. Ratigan's face reddened for a moment, he lifted his hand as if ready to strike the thief before him. But somehow he managed to swallow his rage. The composed smile was back, leaning forward, he cupped Cecilia's cheek. "Are you sure Cici… you aren't, lying to me? Are you? Because you know I can't stand a liar."

She stood proud and tall in the face of the Devil, Basil couldn't help but admire her bravery. Most mice would dissolve into hysterics when faced with a criminal like Ratigan. "I'm not, lying Boss, I swear to you."

This didn't seem to convince him. "Are you sure my dear, because it seems that with every theft you commit without my order, you seem to lose the prize. Are you certain that you don't want to be honest with me?"

Cecilia brushed away his hand. "I am being honest with you Boss, why would I lie?"

Ratigan pulled back and stared down at his employee. "You are a conniving creature; I take that it comes from your mother's 'performing' background."

The comment struck a nerve, Cecilia's posture tensed. Her ears flattened in irritation. Her words came out in a hiss. "I'm not stealing from you Ratigan… sir. I wouldn't risk my family's safety for a few shiny baubles."

There was moment of silence, the mouse and the rat glared into each other's eyes. "Keep in mind that if I do find that you are double crossing me, well you know what will happen."

Basil could just make out the shudder that went through Cecilia's body. "I understand perfectly, Professor."

"Wonderful, now I will be sending you details for your next heist within a few days. You may go now."

That said Ratigan disappeared into his lair, leaving Cecilia supposedly alone in the alleyway. She stood quietly for a moment, in an attempt to regain her composure. Fists clenched, she turned and walked away from the lair, making her way towards the streets.

Basil leapt out of the sight, as she passed his hiding place. He watched as she crumbled to the ground, hands gripping at the walls. She was taking deep steadying breaths; the detective could just make out the sound her shaking voice as she made an attempt to comfort herself. "Bayu- bayushki-bayu. Ne lozhisya na krayu."

He could hear the mourning in her voice, though the Russian language came off as harsh and finally cut. Using the wall as support, Cecilia got up; she looked around for a moment. Revealing the slowly swelling eye from where Ratigan had hit her. She wiped away her tears, and called for her bird. It wasn't long till the raven appeared and Cecilia was gone in the night


	4. Humans and Other Forms of Transportation

Weeks passed by in London, and the Bandit remained unmoving and quiet. No gems went missing; many believed the illustrious heists were at their end. Unlike the naïve minds of the citizens of Mousedom, Basil knew better. This explained why he kept tabs on the Amsel household, more so with a certain young lady. Ms. Amsel made no trips to the 'Rat Trap' and steered clear of Ratigan's lair, this confused the detective immensely. Ratigan seemed to have her at his beck and call. Meanwhile, the woman's eye remained swollen for several days, and healed as the weeks went by.

The young mouse did spend much of her time in the rose bushes, plucking the petals and sitting with her bird. She had a fondness for her avian friend, as if the two were siblings. The raven seemed perfectly content to sit with her, and showed no eagerness to fly away. More than once, Basil caught her talking to the bird. Relaying daily events that took place in her home, the detective had trouble understanding, seeing that most of her words were in broken Russian.

Basil learned quite a bit through these observations. Before hand, the detective could only guess how agile the lady was. Now, he had a good idea. Unlike many mice, she knew how to use her tail to its full extent. Many times, she could be found hanging upside down to snatch the perfect rose, or catching falling object with her tail. Such abilities took time and training to develop.

The woman had taken on the role of mother, performing all the tasks that would be required by the lady of the house. Cecilia prepared three meals a day; sometimes she avoided feeding herself, so as to give her father and sister more food. She looked after the store, despite the fact that they didn't seem to pull in many customers. Before bed, Cecilia was sure to read Rebekka to sleep. Basil liked that, finding that with every reading, his ego would grow slightly. The little mouse insisted that her sister read Dawson's articles, and nothing else. Ms. Amsel complied every night, reading the words with a spectacular bravado that many would envy.

On the fourth week of dormancy for the Bandit, something happened. Despite the fact that the detective kept a watchful eye on the family, he lost track of Ms. Amsel after she took her sister to school. He had had her in his sights, but once Rebekka had been seen safely into her teacher's arms, Ms. Amsel seemed to disappear into the crowd of mothers and fathers, who were seeing their own children off.

Basil scoured the streets for the woman, finding neither hide nor hair of her. She might have taken off on her bird, but that seemed impossible, the detective had not seen a raven anywhere near the area.

Finally, at long last he caught sight of her. Ms. Amsel managed to push her way through a crowd of mice, and was standing patiently at the edge of the declared safe area for mice. She seemed to be observing human foot traffic. His jaw dropped as she ran right in the path of a human. Without any form of hesitation, Ms. Amsel grabbed the hem of the pant leg. Away she went, down the street. "Aw bloody hell."

Basil looked around; he didn't seem to have a choice. If he were to call Toby, he would have to wait, and Ms. Amsel was getting further away. Groaning, he attempted to grab a ride. The lady made it seem so easy, now that he was doing it. Well, it was no picnic that much was certain. On his first try, he was nearly trampled. By the second go, he managed to get a grip on the laces of female human's boot, and he held on for dear life.

Despite the worry of his transportation seeing him, Basil found the ride exhilarating. As he went, the detective could just barely see Ms. Amsel. She appeared to be aiming for the dock. As they were passing it, she dismounted her ride. Basil was prepared to follow her, when the human spotted him. A loud scream just about shattered his ear drums. "A MOUSE! UGH GET IT OFF! HELP!"

The crazy human went into a frenzy of flailing her feet about. All the while her voice growing more and more hysterical, her constant thrashing movement sent Basil into the air. He landed painfully on the street. He made a mad dash for the entrance to the docks, the screams of the female human at his back. Turning he yelled. "Well, I'm not too fond you either Miss!"

Groaning in pain, Basil rubbed his back. "Good lord, it wasn't like I went up her bloomers or anything."

Recalling as to why he had gone through all that. The detective hurried down to the docks, only able to follow Ms. Amsel by the scent of her perfume. It hung in the salty air, forming the perfect trail to follow. Basil had just caught sight her turning the corner by a rather large ship, which was christened "Red Dragon." Though Basil wasn't one for ships, he couldn't help but appreciate her majesty. To any mouse, the vessel was the size of a fabled giant, perhaps even bigger.

Shaking his head, the detective continued on with tailing Amsel. Turning the corner, he hid himself away behind a tower of crates, at the edge of the dock stood his suspect. She seemed to be in the company of a group of unsavory characters. By their appearance, he deduced them to be barge rats. From Ms. Amsel's posture, she looked hassled. Her ears were flat against her head, and her tone was clipped and sharp. "We had a deal; you said I only needed to pay €6 for a bag of Oolong."


	5. Desperation and Oolong

This was rather peculiar; she came all this way to buy tea from a seedy horde of barge rats? Basil knew the business. There were far better places to purchase stock from. Why Amsel chose here, he hadn't a clue. One of the larger of the rats approached the mouse, leering down at her as if she were a piece of meat. Amsel looked ready to shy from him, but her tail swished back and forth as she kept herself strong and proud. Again, she expressed her agitation. "I refuse to pay €6 more. You're cheating me, and I won't have it!"

At her words, the rat guffawed, his companions joining in. Cecilia glared at them. The leader finally spoke. "Then I suppose you're out of luck lass. We ain't gonna haggle with you. Unless…" At this he gave her a once over, his lips curling into a greasy smile. Revealing a set of rotting teeth, "You're willing to offer some other kind of payment."

The rat's words caused Basil and Amsel to stiffen; the detective from shock, and Cecilia from rage and embarrassment. The rat lowered himself and continued to smile. "It's not like you have choice lass, no one else will take a woman's money. They ain't meant to play the men's part."

She glared holes into the wood of the deck. Her ears almost nonexistent against her head, finally Amsel made eye contact with the barge rat. "Times are changing Liam."

The rat's smile vanished "Not here lovely. Now it's either the €12 or you can give me something else."

Cecilia's breath was hissing through her now clenched teeth, trying hard to hold back, but it was to no avail. She had the €12, but it was meant to last her for the rest of the week. Finally, she came to her decision. Turning her nose up, she took her leave. "Good day, you flea bitten bastards."

At her insult, the rat horde attacked. Liam flew at her, enraged at her boldness. Dropping to the ground, Cecilia avoided the monster. The other rats came at her in a flurry. Picking up the hem of her dress, Amsel dodged and weaved, only feeling the single bite of a sharpened claw. Running toward the tea crate, she snagged a small drawstring pouch, full to bursting with Oolong tea leaves.

Seeing an opportunity, she grabbed a few more pouches. Holding the bags like a life line, Cecilia made her escape. Once again narrowly avoiding the rats, as she turned the corner, the detective had barely enough time to hide from sight. Amsel darted by, the rats not far behind. When Liam was about to go past, Basil stuck out his foot, tripping up the lead rat; giving Cecilia just enough time to get away. Before he could be discovered, the detective slipped away.

After navigating his way through the maze of barrels and crates, Basil came out at the dock's exit. Cecilia was not too far ahead, and could be found leaning against stack of barrels. Her arms encasing her plunder. Amsel's hair was a mess, more than a few strands had pulled loose from her usual prim and proper braid. All in all she looked a fright, so much so that the detective felt his heart strings being played.

Slowly the thief righted herself, brushing her frazzled hair from her vision. Cecilia's eyes darted toward the docks. Almost instantly, she locked gazes with Basil. She didn't know whether to run or to greet him. The detective watched her body tense, ready to react to any display of hostility. He couldn't arrest her, she had two mice to worry about, and they would die without her. Turning her over to Mouseland Yard now went against his conscious.

This thought in mind, the detective made an attempt to approach Ms. Amsel. Before he could get a word in, she took off running. Basil had just enough time to catch the wary and fearful look in her eyes. He didn't expect anything different from her reaction. However, he pursued Cecilia, wanting to show her that he wanted only to help, but the pursuit was in vain. She had gone.


	6. Frozen Memories

The door clicked as Cecilia pushed it closed. She was in a right state, her hair an absolute mess, her fur slick with sweat. All the way from the docks, she ran, never stopping and never looking over her shoulder. Licking her dry lips, she made her way over to the counter, depositing the bags of tea onto its surface.

Stepping back she surveyed them, her gray eyes rote with self distaste. What Cecilia had done had been nothing short of impulsive. No it was more than that, it was just plain stupid. She had been foolish. Those damned rats were the only ones who would take her business. All the other traders and sailors wanted nothing to do with women, unless there was a bed in the equation.

Groaning, Cecilia slapped a hand over her face. What had she been thinking? Where would she get her stock now? It was all Ratigan's fault! At this thought, the mouse chuckled. Yes, blame everything on him! Slowly she shook her head. Who was she kidding?

Rubbing her eyes in frustration, Cecilia took the stairs. She suspected that her father would be napping right now. It was all he ever did these days; it was all he could do. His body was growing weaker by the minute, and his blindness robbed him of his once overflowing self confidence. Not even little Rebekka could motivate him anymore. The spiraling depression left the once towering German mouse a ghost of his former self. His eldest was haunted by the thought that he would be gone before within the year, possibly sooner. At this, tears welled up in her eyes as she made the trek to the room that her mother had died in.

Opening the door a crack, Cecilia found only darkness. The master bedroom, if you could call it that was without windows. In the bed, she saw the silhouette of her father. His labored breathing filling the room like a pestilence. There was nothing she could do for him. Bowing her head, Cecilia pulled the door closed. Leaning against it she roughly wiped the tears from her eyes before they drenched her fur. On quiet feet, she returned to the shop.

Walking to the back of the counter, she started to dump one of the bags of leaves. She found six rolls of green tea. Smirking, Cecilia pulled out a knife and carefully began to slice the plant down to size. While the blade carved the tea, Amsel's mind began to wander, lingering toward the past, toward the stormy night when she had first met the Napoleon of Crime.

Of course, Cecilia didn't know that she had been harboring a criminal. Ratigan's face had been an absolute mess and his clothes hadn't been any better. No one could have recognized him, though perhaps she was simply fooling herself. Cecilia didn't want to see a cold blooded crook. Pity outweighed logic, and she failed to see the danger she had put Rebekka into.

Cecilia has been out that night to let off steam, flying in the rain was foolish endeavor. However, she found peace in it. Father had left the night before for business, this had been before depression and utter blindness had robbed him of everything. It had also been the first time that Cecilia had been left in charge. She had acted on selfish impulse and left her sister for a few hours.

Cecilia recalled the sting of the rain as it pounded her fur. She hadn't intended to be flying during such storm, she had been caught unawares. That was when she caught sight of something falling from the clock face of Big Ben. Without a second thought, Cecilia steered Raaf toward Ben and with the extreme speed, the two shot through the sheet of rain like a bullet. Just before the object smashed into the cold unforgiving pavement Cecilia caught it.

_The shock she felt when she saw the torn up face of a fellow rodent was staggering. She hadn't expected that, and without a second thought Cecilia flew home, carried the rat into her home not giving a care to the danger she could be putting herself in._

_Ratigan had remained unconscious for almost a week. It wasn't until late one night when he awoke. Rebekka had insisted that her sister read the story of the mouse with the long golden hair. Hearing movement, Cecilia paused and looked over the book finding a pair of yellowed eyes boring into hers. She stopped midsentence, petrified with awe. Ready to abandon her reading duties, the rat held up a weak hand insisting that she continue reading. Before she could do so, the rat graced her with what she assumed was a kind smile, though now Cecilia knew better. "I must confess my dear. I mistook your voice for that of an angels chorus."_

Ratigan's words danced around her head. He had probably taken for a fool the moment he had opened his eyes. To Ratigan, Cecilia had been nothing pawn and an easily played one at that. This thought resulted in a semi pulverized Green tea leaf

_Disarmed by the pretty words Cecilia blushed, and stumbled through the rest of the story feeling the eyes of her patient. Once she finished reading to Rebekka, she sent the child away and tended to their guest. Cecilia was shy about tending to the rat's injuries now that he was awake. Ratigan had seen this and spoke softly to her, his eyes appeared gentle and kind, leaving her unable to detect the villainess intent. _

_Days passed, and Cecilia continued to play nurse. She still remained in the dark about the identity of her patient. Though she had seen the signs time and again, the girl just couldn't bring herself to see the danger that lay in the upstairs bed. Ratigan had tricked her, played her for a fool. _

Cecilia's grip tightened on the knife. He had played her for a fool, had wrapped her round his little finger. Her gray eyes caught fire, the pent up rage building with the fleeting image of the eyes of the rat she had fallen so hard for.

_The first time they had kissed…. Ratigan had been the young mousette's first. It had been a moment of utter tenderness. He held her so gently, as if she were a delicate rose petal. Cecilia had been changing the bandages on the rat's wounds just before bed. Her fingers grazed the gray fur of Ratigan's arm. He stayed her hand, taking it into his. With ease he drew her down to his level, and he rose to meet her. When their lips connected a fire went on in Cecilia, she had never felt like that before. _

The knife drove home in to the wooden cutting board, cutting against the grain. Rage ran rampant through Cecilia's veins, boiling her blood. Taking a few deep breaths, she attempted calm and went back to cut the tea leaves.

_His true colors had been revealed on an overcast night; Cecilia had been downstairs, busy preparing dinner for Ratigan, Rebekka, and herself. The lovely scent of tomato bisque wafted through the house accompanied by the hum of lady chef. Her gray eyes filled with love and affection, her mind weaved with thoughts of Ratigan. Her train of thought was derailed by an angry shout. Dismissing it for the wind, Cecilia began to doll out the soup into bowls. Picking each of them up, she made her way upstairs. When she was outside the door to the bedroom, she was greeted with the screams of her sister. The bowls crashed to the floor, Cecilia threw the door open before her stood Ratigan. Eyes full of rage, his fingers adorned with claws, wrapped out the neck of her baby sister. _

_Mouth agape with horror, Cecilia rushed him. She clawed at his back, trying to pull him away, tears streaked her black fur. He hadn't ears to listen, and Rebekka's eyes began to flutter. As a last resort, Cecilia ran to the door and picked up a shard of broken bowl. Reaching for the hand that held her sister against the wall, Cecilia drove the shard in. Instantly, Rebekka was free. Catching her, Cecilia cradled her as Ratigan howled in pain._

_Seconds later, Rebekka managed a few words, passing out just as they were gone. "C-called him a r-rat, d-didn't m-mean ta."_

_At her words, Ratigan flew into a fresh wave of rage. "I AM NOT A RAT!"_

_He tried to grab Rebekka, but Cecilia dodged him, making a run for it. Carrying her baby sister, she made it to her father's room. Locking the door and barring it with the dresser. The two sat in darkness, one unconscious and the other biting back sobs. _

"Ouch!" Cecilia reeled from the memories. She had sliced her finger with the knife. Just what she needed, another injury! Pulling away from her work, she went to the sink, and began the process of patching up the damage. "Add that to the list of foolish things I've done."

Since that retched night, Cecilia lived with a constant sense of self loathing. How could she have been so naïve, so easy taken for a fool? She should have left the rat to die, she should have turned him out once his wounds had healed, and she shouldn't have fallen in love with him. All the 'shoulds' and 'shouldn'ts' made her sick. All the things she had done wrong haunted her day and night.


	7. In the Jaws of the Monster

The afternoon came and went, bringing with it a haze of storm clouds. At three o'clock on the dot, the door to the shop opened, revealing little Rebekka her ears drooped with wet, fur drenched clean through. This triggered a snort of laughter from the older sibling. The sound was a rare thing under the Amsel's roof, and it was welcomed with open arms.

The night went on without much incident; Papa came down for dinner, which was composed of a bland vegetable stew, and a crumb of cheese. A pitiful meal, but the family ate heartily savoring every bite down the scraps of the cheese crumb.

The storm began to rattle the small windows of the shop. It took more time then was normal to help Rebekka to bed. The howling of the wind as it rushed through the rose bush terrified her. At last, at 8 o'clock, Cecilia had sung her to sleep.

Descending the stairs, the last remaining Amsel occupied herself with late night chores. All the while, the tempest made the branches of the bush outside, feel inclined to knock on the window panes. In an attempt to drown out the noise, Cecilia hummed to herself as she worked at the burned inside of the stew pot.

A tentative knock on the door stirred her from her peaceful cleanings. Pausing for a moment, Cecilia glanced up. The second knock didn't come for a long while, shrugging she went back to washing. Another forceful 'knock' assaulted her ears, which twitched nervously…..Who would be visiting in this wicked weather at this ungodly time?

Leaning toward the counter, her fingers wrapped around the handle of a rather large knife, normally used to slice meat. Visitors at this hour implied trouble, and she wouldn't have it while her family slept. Concealing the knife behind her back, Cecilia skirted toward the door, she hissed out to the caller. "Who are you, what do you want?"

The answer she received was not what she had expected. The familiar nasally Australian accent of Hugo King greeted her. "It's me Cici, come on let me in, it's raining wallabies out here."

Reluctant, Cecilia opened the door and let the Kangaroo rat inside. His flat feet slapped against the floor. The Australian's eyes were wild with the storm, his ears perked and alert. Extracting the knife, the bi-colored mouse tapped his chest, her grey eyes laced with warning. Her words came out in a hysterical whisper. "What do you think you're doing here? Are you stupid? I told you that Detective was watching me."

Brushing away the tip of the knife, Hugo hopped toward the kitchen. "Don't worry your pretty head Cici, the storm drove him off."

Fuming, Cecilia placed the knife on the counter. "That doesn't matter you flat footed fool."

Ignoring the rash anger of his hostess, King took a seat, and propped his feet onto the table. With a snarl, Cecilia snagged a wooden spoon from the drawer and smacked him. "I just cleaned that."

Sneering, Hugo began the process of wringing out his drenched ears. "Boss's got another job for you."

Nodding slowly, the young thief took a seat opposite her guest. "There'll be a ball tomorrow night, lots of distraction; the host is the Duke and Duchess of Milan. The Duchess has a very rare sapphire broach, and Boss also keen on the Duke's ruby cufflinks."

Great, just perfect, a party scene! How was she supposed to attend without Basil finding out? Desperate, Cecilia fixed Hugo with a large pitiable gaze. "Hugo….?"

Before she could so much a stoop to begging, the Kangaroo rat shook his head. "Can't, I have a history with Milan. Boss wouldn't be pleased if I got me-self arrested."

Gritting her teeth, Cecilia's fingers tangled in her hair. Ratigan was toying with her. This wasn't a heist; this was revenge for stealing against orders. The rat was playing passive aggressive. He knew she didn't lose that ruby or the other gems that she passed off to Burby. He wasn't going to allow her a peaceable death, no; no Ratigan wanted her to know that despite her resistance, Cecilia was his dog to command. No matter how many times she bit him, he wouldn't give her freedom from the leash that choked her each and every day "Oi, Cici you alright."

Though she couldn't recall getting up, Cecilia found herself standing before sink. Bracing herself on the counter, she turned to Hugo. His wide chocolate gaze drunk with pity, her next words came out clipped and business like. "Will he be sending someone in as distraction?"

With a nod Hugo smirked. "He'll send the Armand brothers. You won't be playing flirtatious party guest this round, that'll be their shtick. According to sources the broach and cuff links will be locked away in the upstairs bedroom. They own one of the few top level estates in London. The bedroom is three windows up, and 5 to the left from the front. With your bird, you'll be in and out no problem."

Rubbing her eyes, Cecilia drawled. "In no problem, out, that remains to be seen."

At this, the kangaroo rat chuckled. "You really are worried about that Basil character ain't ya?"

How could he be so dismissive? Throwing her hands up, she just about shrieked. "He threw that Sewer Rat off Big Ben…. I have a right to be worried Hugo!"

At, 'Sewer rat', Hugo froze. Jumping up he clamped his hand around the thief's mouth. "Do ya wanna lose your head Cici? He could be listening!"

Snarling, Cecilia bit down, yelping in pain. King glared at her, only to shrink away at the look in her venomous grays. "What? You can't stand to hear him be called a Sewer rat? It's what he is….He's a bloody Sewer Rat, Sewer Rat, Sew-…Stop looking around like he's gonna come strolling in here with a gun."

At her words, King flushed. Taking a deep breath, Cecilia calmed herself. "I don't understand why you're so afraid of him Hugo; you're a hell of a lot bigger than he is."

Hugo gave her a pitiable smile. "He's smarter than me."

Cecilia smiled listlessly. "Brains beat brawn every time eh?"

Smirking, King nodded "Yeah."

Brushing a hand through her hair, Cecilia spoke gently, her voice raw with exhaustion. "Tell Boss, I don't need the brothers. They'll only rouse suspicion

Standing, Hugo made for the door. Looking over his shoulder he replied softly. "In that case, good luck Cici."

The door clicked shut, bringing in the winter breeze from the outside. Shivering, Cecilia proceeded to finish her nightly chores. Once those were taken care of, she went upstairs. Minutes later, she was shedding her work clothes for a patched nightgown. Smirking, she mused. "I steal some of the most priceless gems in London, and I dress in rags, how's that?"

That in mind, she tucked herself into bed, and shut her eyes, her mind stilling flying. Ratigan wasn't giving her any warning this time. Cecilia was going to have to wing it tomorrow, something better done alone. It was still storming outside; tomorrow she would take a walk around the vicinity of the Duke and Duchess's estate. If she remembered correctly they were on the way to local market, so it wouldn't look at all suspicious to the Detective. Plan confirmed Cecilia drifted off to sleep.


End file.
